


Fired Up

by Sulla



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulla/pseuds/Sulla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is written in response to a prompt left by  in my <a href="http://users.livejournal.com/sulla_/343595.html">prompt box</a>.  I hope this goes some way towards making your week a little brighter!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fired Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Fired Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/714888) by [ogawaryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogawaryoko/pseuds/ogawaryoko)



John looked up at a knock on the door at the surgery.

"Yes?"

Sarah stepped into the room, carrying a small load of files. She did not put them on his desk, however, so she must be there for something else. The look on her face does not bode well. Sort of a mixture of nervousness and steel.

"John. Good morning."

"Good morning."

"John, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to let you go."

Whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that.

"Pardon... pardon me?"

"I have to let you go. Sack you. I'm sorry."

"But why? How... wait." John sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "Does this have anything to do with Sherlock?"

Sarah looked down for a moment, and took a deep breath. "Sort of, but-"

"Is it because he keeps stopping by here? I can ask him to stop..."

"Well, it's-"

"Is is because he re-diagnosed three of your patients? I'm really sorry about that."

"No, not -"

"Is it because he deduced that you are" his voice dropped to a whisper, "a virgin, and that's why you wouldn't sleep with me?"

Sarah went bright red in the face. "What - no!"

"Is it because I'm dating him now instead of you?"

"Not re-"

"Or maybe because of that incident three days ago? I swear he told me the door was locked!"

She was nearly puce in colour by this point. "Well, you shou-"

"Oh wait, I bet it's because-"

"Shut _up_! If you'd let me get a word in..." Sarah burst out in near-desperation.

"Oh yes, yes, I'm sorry, please do go ahead." He folded his hands in front of him, the very picture of attentiveness.

"Thank you. It is in a way to do with Sherlock, but not in the way you're thinking. You have been absent more than present in the last few weeks, and the pressure on the surgery is getting to be more than the current staff can handle. We have to let you go so that we can hire someone else, someone who isn't being called off to crime scenes during office hours. I really am sorry, John. It's just become too much."

John's heart sunk lower with every word. It was true, all true. He was indeed spending too much time on the cases with Sherlock, and he had been beginning to dread his time in the surgery. It was just the boredom of the job that got to him. Well, at least it wasn't all bad - he did need the money, yes, but at least now there would be no more sniffly noses and screaming children.

"I understand, Sarah. I'll move my possessions out by the end of the day."

"Thank you, John. I wish you luck with your future endevours. Just... be careful out there, yeah?"

John smiled tiredly at her. "Yeah, no worries. I hope we can remain friends?

"Of course."

*****

 

John was angry. He'd never lost a job before, for any reason. In fact, he'd never failed at anything he'd every really set his mind to doing, not anything that counted, at least, and now that he had, it made him feel almost less than a man. What kind of man can't keep his job? And following that line of thought, he cursed at himself again and kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk as he walked up Baker street, briefcase in hand. What kind of doctor, he thought, runs out on his patients to chase criminals with his boyfriend across the city at all hours? Not a very responsible one, he felt. It was not something a good soldier would do, either.

He climbed the steps and entered 221B, dragging his feet as he took the last stairs into the flat. Looking around, he didn't immediately see Sherlock, so he took off his coat and draped it over one of the chairs. He went straight to the fridge and took out the half-empty bottle of rum, ignoring the collection of pierced tongues on a plate, and poured himself a stiff one, topping it off with a little cola he had on the fridge door.

He heard a step behind him as he took a deep swallow. He didn't turn around.

"You've been sacked." Not a question, but a statement. John didn't dignify this comment with a response.

After several long moments of silence, a tentative hand rested on his shoulder. "Are you...um. Are you... all right?"

John tensed as he felt a sudden flare of anger at Sherlock for being, in a way, at the base of why he'd been fired, but the emotion was gone nearly as soon as it appeared. This wasn't Sherlock's fault. John made his own decision to follow Sherlock on his cases, he wasn't ever forced to go, after all. He just.. didn't like Sherlock going out on his own without any backup. And he'd been doing fine alone for long before John arrived on the scene, so he shouldn't expect Sherlock to quit going out alone. But god, he worried sometimes. He turned around, dislodging Sherlock's hand from his shoulder.

"Fine. I'm fine, Sherlock. I don't think I really want to talk about it."

Sherlock nodded, mutely. John could feel the other man's eyes on him as he made his way to the sofa and sat down with his drink.

"Would you, uh, would you like me to prepare dinner?"

John looked up. What prompted that? If there was any one thing that John would say that Sherlock Holmes cannot do, it's cook a decent meal. "You mean order curry or something?"

Sherlock nodded. He looked awkward. It was a new look for him, and John found it kind of... arousing. They hadn't been together as a couple for very long, and it still surprised him when Sherlock did something seemingly so out of character as to express _care_ for John. He knew that this was one of Sherlock's first real relationships as an adult, and as such it was all new territory for the already rather socially-stunted man. In all honesty, the appearance of awkwardness in Sherlock seemed to be doing something for John's libido more than anything else.

"Maybe later," John replied, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the erection that was beginning to make itself known in his pants. He looked up at Sherlock, standing by the armchair, and was unsurprised to see that the man had already noticed John's arousal. His eyes were riveted to John's crotch. Screw embarrassment, John thought. Today had been bad enough without feelings of doubt and low self-worth. He needed to get his mind off the events of the day.

Smiling a little to himself, John eased a hand down over his trousers, massaging his erection lightly, smoothing the fabric over the entire length of his cock, making the shape that much more obvious to Sherlock's eyes.

"You know what I _would_ enjoy right now..." he murmured, easing his eyes up Sherlock's body from his sensibly shod feet, up his designer trousers to the tent making itself apparent at his fly.

"Probably," intoned Sherlock, and John's eyes darted up to catch the look off raw desire on the man's face before it was wiped clear in favour of a blank, emotionless facade. Then John watched with rising desire as Sherlock dropped to his knees on the floor and began to crawl the few feet to John's knees.

Arriving at his goal, Sherlock kept his eyes on the prize, and nosed John's knees apart, only to ease his own head and shoulders into the space between them. Staying on all fours, Sherlock began to nuzzle into John's crotch, lipping his way up and then back down the length of his cock, then lowering his face down to nose at the sack of John's balls, getting in as close as he could sniff John's personal scent. This had previously made John uncomfortable, but when Sherlock explained how arousing scent was for him, and in particular, the strong, male scent between John's legs, he was happy to allow the oddity. Anything that resulted in an aroused Sherlock was okay by John any day.

John sighed heavily as Sherlock made his way back up John's cock, finally coming back up to rub both cheeks against the hardness under the fabric. But John could tell that Sherlock was becoming impatient, because the man was starting to vocalize in little whimpers. This was another aspect of Sherlock's sexuality that was different as well. He made more noise than any other man John had been with. Not more than the women; women seemed to be natural noise-makers in bed - either by nature or design, John didn't know. But Sherlock seemed to genuinely lose his iron self-control when it came to sex with John. And since Sherlock admitted to only having one other lover in his life, and that in the later years of public school, John was obliged to believe that this noisiness was a natural byproduct of sexual arousal in the man.

Sherlock finally brought his hands up to John's trousers and carefully unbuckled the belt and opened the fly, baring John's underwear. At the tip of his cock the fabric was dense with the liquid seeping from his slit Sherlock reached up to either side of John's hips and, encouraging him to lift up for a moment, he pulled the trousers and underwear down and all the way off of his legs and feet, freeing up plenty of space for Sherlock to kneel before John's cock.

And John's cock was indeed something to kneel before. He'd always been slightly put off by the fact that his cock was so large. It had a tendancy to frighten inexperienced women, and experienced women refused to engage in anal sex with him due to fears about his size. Men, however, seemed to love every bloody inch of it, and Sherlock was no different.

John was hard enough that his cock was standing straight up, pointing at his chin, and a string of pre-cum ran from the tip to the skin of his belly. The foreskin was pulled all the way back, but Sherlock's first move was to change that, pulling on the shaft so that the silky-smooth skin slid up and covered the glans, gathering in front of the slit into a little ultra-soft bit of skin for Sherlock to suck on, which he did with fervor. He flicked his tongue against the bit of skin, and then eased his tongue in the middle of it and went right in under the foreskin to circle the head, making John moan with pleasure. Finally he let the skin fall back, baring the glans once again, and Sherlock poked the tip of his tongue in the slit at the top, just slightly.

John was panting with arousal as Sherlock sat back for a moment and pulled a tube of lubricant from his pocket, squirting out a generous amount to smear over his hand. Tossing the tube aside, Sherlock encircled John's cock with his hands, one over the other, to cover the entire length him. He began a series of tugs and squeezes all along the length of him, dragging sounds of pleasure from John's chest. Sherlock took the head into his mouth and sucked, focusing on just the head, being sure to circle his tongue around the rim of the crown, and flicking his tongue on the frenulum.

Bringing his hand to rest on the top of Sherlock's head, John began to slightly flex his hips, and Sherlock quickly took the hint and took his hands away, allowing the length of John's cock to enter his mouth. Sherlock took in as much as he could, a little more than half, before the glans of John's cock lodged in the back of his mouth. He lifted up again, sucking and swirling his tongue as he went, and then descended once more. John thrust his hips in regular motions, easing his cock in and out of Sherlock's mouth as he held Sherlock's head still. Hollow, wet sounds issued lewdly from Sherlock's throat, and as he began to moan, his voice was cut off over and over again, forming a rhythmic tattoo of sound.

Finally, Sherlock eased one hand down to cradle John's balls in one hand, playing with them idly, rolling them in their sack, which became more and more difficult as John's balls tightened, crawling up closer to his body in anticipation of his impending release.

"Sher-" John tried to warn as he came, taking his hand off the back of Sherlock's head to allow him to pull back if he wished, but Sherlock only continued, sealing his lips around the head and easily taking in the semen that pumped out of John's cock. John could see the man's throat working as he swallowed his come, and John had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head from pleasure. God. _What_ a blowjob.

John lifted Sherlock's head off of his cock and brought the man's lips to his own, and they kissed, Sherlock sharing John's taste with him.

"Hmmm. Just what I needed, Sherlock, thanks," he said, pulling back to gaze at his lover. "Can I do anything for you?" he asked, eying the tent in the other man's trousers.

Sherlock smiled but shook his head. "Let's get dinner first. I know how I want to come tonight, and it's with you inside me."

"How young do you think I am, Sherlock?" John laughed, forgetting his troubles for the moment.

"Young enough, John, young enough. Curry?"

"Yes. _Starving_."

"Indeed. An orgasm will do that."

*****

After curry, sex.

After sex, a little telly, then more sex.

The two men ended up staying up half the night having sex - it was more than either of them had enjoyed since they started dating; after all, John reasoned, it wasn't like he had to get up early in the morning anymore. They finally fell asleep sometime around two in the morning, covered with drying semen and probably smelling like a male brothel.

It wasn't much better in the morning, but tell that to Sherlock, thought John sleepily, as his flatmate nosed his way up John's side to nestle in his armpit, before heading back down to bury his face in John's crotch. Morning wood hello! thought John. But before he could get very far, John grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders and hauled him up to face level. Sherlock wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Good morning," John tried.

"mmnnning."

"What's the problem, Sherlock?" asked John, trying to get a good look in Sherlock's eyes. The other man dodged him at every move.

"I can't kiss you. I need to brush my teeth first."

"I'm not letting you out of this bed until I fuck you, Sherlock."

John watched as Sherlock's face lit up like a kid at Christmas. Then it changed to wary.

"What?" John asked, perturbed.

"Still can't kiss you."

"Fine. No kissing for now. How's this? Head on the pillow, arse in the air."

The shit-eating grin was back. Sherlock scrambled to assume the position.

John grabbed the lube from where they had dropped it last night, and slicked himself quickly. He reached towards Sherlock and easily inserted two slicked fingers into Sherlock's arse, and was astounded to find that the man was still a little loose from the night before. Not only that, but John could feel some of his own come still inside Sherlock's hole.

"Oh my god, Sherlock," John moaned, "you're still wet from last night..."

Sherlock's cheeks turned a little red. "I know," he said, talking into the pillow. "I could feel you dripping out of me last night, so I changed position so that I was at the optimum angle to prevent seepage. I should still have most of the come from your last orgasm still in me."

John shuddered in intense arousal. "I can't tell you how hot that is. Thinking of you lying here... all night... my come trying to dribble out of your arse... you trying to keep it in... _fuck_."

He was a little worried that he'd come the second he entered Sherlock's body. He quickly tried thinking of Mycroft in a frilly little bonnet and the immediate edge was taken off. He didn't bother putting any more fingers in Sherlock as he was already rather roomy. He sat up on his knees behind Sherlock and inserted the head of his cock.

"Mmmfffm yeah..." moaned Sherlock into the pillow, trying unsuccessfully to shove back onto John's cock all in one stroke. John held his hips still and worked his prick slowly into the warm, wet confines of Sherlock's body. He had never taken Sherlock so soon after having already done so. And there was usually a shower in between. But now... He could feel his own come sloshing around his cock inside Sherlock, and it was a sensation he'd never had before. He began very quickly to pound in to the other man's arse, enjoying immensely the sloppy wet noises that his cock made in such a wet hole, along with the moaning and whimpering of the man beneath him. Sherlock's arse was a little less tight than he would have liked, so he asked Sherlock to help.

"Sherlock. Squeeze me. Clamp down on me, tight."

John shuddered as the man did so, enveloping John's cock in tightness for a few brief moments. "Again!"

Over and over he had Sherlock tighten his arse down onto John's cock, and within moments John was on the edge of release. He brought a hand around Sherlock's hips and using the one that he's slicked with lube before, he grabbed the man's cock and began to wank him in time with his own thrusts. It was not going to take much for Sherlock either - that was evident by the grunting an the final expressive groan that the man made as he spurted his semen into the already stained and filthy sheets.

The convulsive clamping of Sherlock's muscles caused by his orgasm grabbed John and threw him over the edge. He gripped the man's hips and pounded three final times, finally coming to a halt buried to the hilt inside his lover. He spewed his come in several great spurts, adding this morning's quota to the semen already lodged in the man's arse.

John's hand slipped on the bed and his body weight fell down on Sherlock, which in turn forced Sherlock down on his belly. They lay like this for some time, simply breathing and enjoying touching each other body to body.

Finally John grew flaccid enough to be naturally expelled from Sherlock's arse. John sat up and pulled Sherlock's arse cheeks apart, and watched as a trickle of semen followed his exit.

"You know what I wish we had?"

"What's that?" mumbled Sherlock in reply.

"A buttplug. To seal all my come inside you for the day."

"Mmmph. Hot."

"Yeah, I thought so."

"Let's go back to sleep."

"You sloth."

"Yes, thanks."

"Well...okay. I'll look for work another day."

"That's the spirit."

*****


End file.
